When people say that the old dive bars in the city are disappearing, they're half-right. It's not so much that they are going away (they drop off the map with as much regularity as any bars in this town), but that the grizzled, senile, superannuated, fossilized, time-worn hobgoblins who run the places are either selling 'em or being buried. Bobby's Owl Tree is a perfect example; it was once run by a man who loved that particular species of bird and adorned his entire joint with them. He was also a class-A asshole to a lot of people — the ultimate hoary grouch behind the counter. Then he died, and his son took over and destroyed everything that was ever cool about the place. It still sits on the corner of Post and Taylor, with the same name, but it ain't the same bar. So dives live on, but the people who made them what they... More >>>